


Accursed Musings

by Sid45ultra



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fanon, Final Fantasy XV Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Self-Harm, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 01:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sid45ultra/pseuds/Sid45ultra
Summary: Ardyn considers the line of Lucis and the weapons they bore.Thoughts on how Ardyn got all his weapons with a fun splash of nihilism!





	Accursed Musings

**Author's Note:**

> Stuff I wrote during another depressed episode. I also post random stuff on my Tumblr: Time-of-Contempt. Check it out.

## Accursed Musings

113 kings of Lucis. Over 112  weapons collected from his dead descendants, each blade tainted with the scourge that had destroyed him. 112 possible murder weapons. 2000 years waiting for his brother’s heirs to die so he could visit their tomb and rob them of their grace. At first it had been out of spite, desecrating the tombs of the Kings of Lucis. A spiteful little game to get back at the bloodline that had betrayed him. Eventually it got boring. There was no challenge in robbing dead men. 

So he wandered. Sowing discord where he felt like it, toppling governments and starting wars when he could. Playing with humanity was simple. Predictable little pawns living such short, pointless lives. The futility would have been laughable if his existences wasn’t the most futile of all. Condemned to be a sacrifice by gods who had abandoned him. Denied him his birthright and cast him to live among the lepers. It was all pointless, dreadfully, unarguably, pointless. 

Eventually he went back to collecting the swords of dead kings. No one cared anyway. Why care about some place holder monarch when the true king, the Chosen One had not yet been born. In the end, the Kings of Lucis were little more than sperm donors trying to create a child worthy of the name. 

He stopped learning the names of people. The Emperor of Niflheim, the King of Lucis, the Grand Pubah DeDoink of all This and That. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. 2000 years and nothing had changed. He began to experiment with his stolen heritage. The swords of the Kings, spectral as they were, could hurt him. He had tested it by summoning one and slipping it point first through his right thigh. It hurt, but not as much as he had expected. The black ichor dripping from the blade had been a surprise. He hadn’t bled since his fall from grace. It seemed the daemons inside him had infected more than just his mind. That intrigued him. They howled at the blade in his leg, drawing away from the weapon until true, human, pain, the first he had felt in centuries, began to pulse deliciously through him. He wondered what it would feel like for the blade to pierce his heart.


End file.
